


The Secret and Confidential Political Workings of the Opposition

by MatildaSwan



Category: Thick of It (UK)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from missing two years.</p><p>(A collection of prompt based drabbles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It was an extremely bad sort of 'just one of those days' (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a_writing_muse: Vacuum, Nun, & Property

Nicola had finally made it back to her office after spending the entire morning running about Brewers Green schmoozing. She’d just sat down to eat lunch when Malcolm had burst in; started rambling about she hadn’t a clue what. Something about a drunk minister, a donkey and ‘Nicola, you’ve got to take advantage of this, right now’.

That was ten minutes ago: her head ached as much as her feet did.

“Hello, stop!” Waving her arms in his face. It was a poor substitute for slapping him, but Nicola rather preferred to continue breathing. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Malcolm paused, finally realising Nicola had no idea what was going on.

“Woman, have you been living in a fucking vacuum?” If scowling were an Olympic sport, Malcolm Tucker would have an entire houseful of medals. “Everyone knows about this, how can you not know?” He’d bring home the gold for expressive hand gestures too. “Maybe if you pulled your head out of your arse your ears might unclog, might start to work again. Now shut up and listen to me!”

Nicola sighed, all hope of a peaceful lunch gone. It was going to be one of those afternoons.

*

“We need to push the prozzies on government money, right? Family values bollocks, irresponsibility, misused resources, the whole fucking shebang,” Malcolm coached. “We’re going to scrub you up so much your inner nun comes shining out. That shouldn’t be a problem. No drug habits or bastard children, scurrying home to your husband and kids every night.”

 _A husband who was never there._ Nicola’s face fell before she could plaster her mask back on. She’d have to address James sooner or later, he couldn’t be stupid enough to think she hadn’t noticed. The again, maybe he _was_ , oblivious to the lipstick stains or the perfume that’d seeped into his pillow.

“I can tell you, makes my life much fucking easier,” Malcolm’s voice dragging Nicola out of her moping. She pushed her twat husband and his secretary to the back of her mind and looked back at Malcolm. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn that was concern in his eyes. She stared him down, blank faced innocence meeting his: piercing and omniscient. Nicola sighed, knowing she’d never get a better time than this.

“Actually Malcolm, I may have a corpse in the back yard you need to know about.”

*

Malcolm slammed the door, walls shaking as he spun on his heels. Livid and frothing at the mouth, he started pacing across the floor of her office. Nicola watched the flurry on movement from the corner of her eye; arms wrapped around herself as she studied the carpet.

“That fucking twat, I’ll cut his cock off and slap him about the fucking head with it,” red in the face and fuming. “No, I’ll give it to you, and you can ram it down his throat till he chokes in his own come!” Grimacing at his own stroke of genius. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me!” Arms flailing as he rounded on Nicola.

“I…,” she broke off, sniffling slightly. She wouldn’t cry: it wasn’t worth the effort. “I think…I thought if I ignored it long enough it would go away.”

“Well, that’s some fucking stellar logic, that’s some fucking overwhelming thoughts right there,” sneering at Nicola like she’d grown a second head. “Here I was thinking today we’d gotten ourselves an easy victory.”

“It’s my fucking marriage, Malcolm. My _fucking_ family!” She screamed, falling against the conference table; numbness melting away to sorrow. “And he’s just gone, with her. Thought I was stupid, and his… _property_ , that he could just leave and come back to. Just, fucking _arse_!”

Nicola shattered, truth of the matter finally hitting her after weeks of wilful ignorance.  She sank to the floor, carpet biting her knees as she buried her face in her hands. Curling in on herself, sobs wracked her frame; until she felt a hand on her hair and Malcolm pulled her into his arms.

“Sorry, Nicola,” whispered against her scalp. “It’ll be alright, okay. Nicola, I promise.” She turned in his arms and bawled into his shoulder, soaking through his shirt to skin.


	2. Just another day at the f*ckoffice for the Leader of the Opposition (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events used as ammunition in a guerrilla attack on Nicola now are outlined in cpt1. I swear, I'll get the order straight one day.
> 
> Prompts: Poster, Advice, & Limelight

“Why are you shouting, woman?” Malcolm bellowed over Nicola’s current rant, arms flailing. “What’s gotten your knickers in a twist?”

“Oh, for fuck…” Nicola fumed, going a lovely shade of purple before turning her back; grabbing a piece of paper off her desk and striding back to Malcolm, sheet flapping dangerously close to his eyes.

“It’s this fucking poster! It’s despicable, it’s disgusting, and it’s your fucking job to make sure this sort of shit doesn’t happen!” she retreated, flopping against her desk.

“So make it not happen Malcolm, or admit you’re fucking useless and get out of my office.”

 *

 Malcolm stared at the paper in his hand and scowled. As far as he was concerned, smear campaigns had no place in British politics.

"I’m very far from useless, Nicola. You know that,” he looked back up, taking in Nicola’s dejected silhouette. “I’ll fix this. You just go home and deal with the family.”

“Malcolm…” she started, before he broke her off, already working the speed dial on his blackberry.

“Nicola, just take my advice. It’s what I’m fucking here for,” shining her one of his reassuring-but-unnerving smiles. “Go home, pet. This’ll be over by the time you get back.”

*

Being a politician meant public scrutiny.

That was part of the gig, Nicola rationalised. You’re a representative of the public, and the public has a right to their opinions on your dealings. And on what you do with the power invested in you.

Oh course, given the faults in human behaviour, at some point in every career the person became the story, rather than the policy. She should have realised this was a possibility; a certainty given her position, however superfluous it was in reality.

She just hadn’t expected to be shoved into the limelight in such a vulgar manner.  


	3. The Best/Worst Kept Secret in Shadow Cabinet [S,O,H,(N/M)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Wheat, Icebox, & Dove

Sam registered a few expletives coming from Malcolm’s office and sighed. Nicola was currently exercising her higher vocal range in retaliation to Malcolm’s verbal gymnastics.

Sam opened the desk draw and rummaged around for her headphone; music was always a good way to drown out whatever _thing_ the two of them had going on. However, before she could find her iPod, she heard the distinctive thud of a body thumping against a wall and the room went silent.

Sam smiled, deciding it was time for lunch. She wanted to eat her sandwich without an adult film playing in the background. 

*

Helen pushed her hands further into her coat pockets with a scowl. The weather was like an icebox at the moment, and she’d left her gloves on the kitchen counter. She seriously regretted her decision not to double back but she had already been half an hour late for work.

She checked her watch and huffed, putting more length in her strides. She turned into a sideline off Brewers Green, pausing when she recognised Nicola practically falling out of a car. Helen smiled, knowing she wasn’t _actually_ late for work if her boss wasn’t in the building. She was about to call out when Malcolm appeared behind Nicola, slamming the door shut behind him.

Helen gaped as the two stood far too close for a professional conversation. She watched them walking ahead of her, practically hand in hand. Malcolm leant down to whisper something in Nicola’s ear; her giggle fluttered up the street to Helen.

Nicola grabbed Malcolm’s hand and pulled him into a nearby alcove, leaving Helen standing in a now empty backlane with a very new perspective on her boss’s relationship with the party’s Director of Communication. 

Helen still managed to make it into the office before Nicola.

*

Ollie hammered on the door he’d seen Nicola disappeared into ten minutes ago, after she’d excused herself from a strategy meeting with that baffled panicking look plastered all over her face.

“Nicola, hurry up! We have work to do!” He had better things to do than wait around for Nicola to calm down; like go on his lunch break. He heard a sort of dove coo and scowled, “Nicola, why are you pretending to be a pigeon?”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and some shuffling through the wood. He was about to start bashing on the door again when it swang open, revealing an irate-and-slightly- dishevelled Malcolm Tucker.

“We’re a bit fucking busy right this second, going over some very important policy options,” he glowered. Ollie tried very hard to not stare at the patch of expose chest peeking through his opened shirt. “So why don’t you get those twigs you call legs to turn around and fuck off!” slamming the door in Ollie’s face.

Ollie stood rooted to the stop; confused and slightly terrified. Until he hear a distinctively female voice moan Malcolm’s name. Wide-eyed, he turned tail and ran away, as fast as his twig-legs could manage.


	4. Happy Birthday, Darling (N/M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ensemble, Increments, & Butter.

“Oh, Nicola. That’s an interesting ensemble you’ve got there.” Malcolm mumbled, practically choking on his tongue. “Much better than your usual attire,” his eyes sweeping over her body: up, down, and back up again.

Red kitten heels; far too raunchy for the office, obviously for personal use only. Satin tights, black lace patterned around her thighs; matching knickers that did little to hide her curves. Deep violet bra; cleavage barely contained, nipples visible through the material.

She extended an arm towards him, thin silver bracelet dangling from her wrist. Malcolm smiled, taking her hand and pulling her onto his lap. 

*

His mouth assaulted her neck, fingers brushing hair off her shoulders as his teeth worried her throat. She ground against him, relishing the friction; course material of his pants delicious through her barely-there knickers.

"Oh, you minx!” he mumbled, working his way down to her breast. “You look fucking edible right now. I could just eat you right up.”

“God, yes.” Nicola moaned, images flashing through her mind: his face between her legs, clever tongue driving her closer and closer by increments, nose brushing her clit until she came. “Please?”

She felt him smile against her skin: glorious and feral.

*

 "Round two?” Nicola asked; sweat still drying on her skin.

“Not a chance, love,” Malcolm barked. “I’ll need a while to recover from _that_.”

“You’re getting old, Malcolm,” Nicola quipped; butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth smirk lightening up her face. “Here I was thinking you’d have more of a show in you.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” smile anything but apologetic. “I thought I was doing a decent enough job,” he cocked his eyebrow as he followed the path of her fingers.

“Guess I’ll just have take matters into my own hands,” she purred in his ear, toes sliding the sheets up and down the bed.


End file.
